


Proper Incentive

by Flammenkobold



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Apophis canonically is dtf, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Dom/sub Undertones, Hair Pulling, Oral Sex, Other, PWP, Wilde canonically likes a bit of sausage, shapeshifted!Apophis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 23:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20299537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: The Meritocracy has to deal with a scandal and needs some creative ideas to do so. Wilde has his best ideas while on his knees. Apophis is happy to help out.





	Proper Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> On Apophis' pronouns: in the episode itself Apophis was both referred to as 'they' and 'he'. For the purpose of this fic I'm going with they.

His knee resting on the polished stone floor starts to ache and cold seeps through his thin trousers. Apophis has slowly dismissed each and every other agent, after they failed to provide usable information and ideas to deal with the current situation. 

Oscar might have spared them the interrogation by Cairo’s ruler if he had any clue about how to mitigate the incoming media chaos himself. He’s been busy with a lot of other things and had been summoned to the palace in the middle of the night. It's likely why he’s coming up blank himself.

Now tiredness and frustration are slowly replaced by growing unease, because he knows if no one else comes up with a creative solution, he’s the one Apophis will look to to provide one. As much as he usually enjoys his job, being stuck alone with one of the five most powerful beings on this planet, who incidentally is also a giant dragon most of the time, is not something he looks particularly forward to. 

Right now Apophis has at least chosen a humanoid form - a very beautiful one at that, if Oscar allows himself to admit as much. Which he does, because at least part of his brain still seems to work and it’s the one that thrives on exquisite things.

Then the last of the other agents is dismissed and Oscar can feel Apophis’ burning eyes land on him. Something heavy, not unlike dread, settles in his stomach and with each step Apophis comes closer, he can feel a wave of heat wash over him. It takes a lot to continue to stare ahead and keep his face straight.

“You’ve been very quiet.” Apophis’ deep voice reverberates through his bones. “Unusually so.” They stop in front of Oscar, so close that the hem of their robe nearly brushes over the shoe of Oscar’s bent knee and the heat emanating from Apophis’ form feels like the desert wind on his skin. 

Oscar swallows. 

“I haven’t had coffee, yet.” The quip slips out unbidden. It’s not like he has slept at all.

Apophis hums. “Is that so?” They place a too warm hand on top of his head in a rare gesture. Tiredness and surprise freeze Oscar in place and keep him from flinching away.

“I- yes, Sir.”

Apophis idly runs his hand through Oscar’s hair. “I take it then you have no idea on how to deal with our current dilemma either?” 

Their skin is hot, nearly unbearably so, but just on the edge where it is still a welcoming warmth contrasting with the cold floor and night air. It takes a lot of Oscar's willpower to not let his eyes slip close and lean into the hand toying with his hair.

“No - not yet,” he amends. There might still be an idea or two crawling their way out of his mind. “Other than letting it play out and then find a way to swing it to our advantage.”

The hand in his hair tightens as Apophis gently pulls his head back. He’s all too aware how easily Apophis could snap him in half, if they so wished.

“That certainly is an interesting option,” Apophis says, an amused smile playing over their lips, the fingertips of their other hand ghosting down Oscar’s jawline. “But not anything concrete either, I assume?”

“Not yet,” he admits and Apophis thumb rubs over his lower lip, making the last word come out more breathless than it has any right to be.

A low rumble passes through him, grounding him at the same time as it makes his blood feel like it's vibrating - Apophis is humming in thought.

“Do you think with the right _ incentive _you might come up with something more detailed?” they ask Oscar, the amusement in their voice as clear as the very familiar kind of heat settling in Oscar’s stomach.

“Definitely,” he answers and expertly takes Apophis’ thumb into his mouth, making a suggestion of what the right incentive could be.

“Good,” Apophis says warmly, the praise sinking into Oscar’s skin. “Go on then.”

Oscar raises his hands and opens Apophis’ robe dutifully. For someone who is not usually confined to a human form Apophis is very well endowed with an appropriate imitation of a human cock.

Oscar settles his hands carefully on Apophis’ hips, hesitantly at first in case he isn’t allowed. But Apophis makes no move to swat him away or tell him off, so he lets them stay there, using the bit of grip he has as leverage to not overbalance as he takes them into his mouth. 

It takes him a jittery moment to find a rhythm. 

It takes him a bit longer still before his racing thoughts quiet and he can filter out the unnecessary ones, until only the most promising ideas stand out, ready to be followed along. Slowly he connects solutions, runs them through their possible outcomes. Just when he finds something that could indeed work very well, Apophis gently pulls his head back. Oscar doesn’t manage to stop the soft whine that slips out of his lips. 

“Any ideas now?” Apophis asks, eyeing Oscar’s swollen lips and dishevelled hair with amusement. 

Oscar swallows, tries to buy a second before he can form words again. “I- Nothing well thought through, I’m afraid. Perhaps-” he wets his lips, preparing himself to do something a bit stupid, “with a little more time.” A bold faced lie if nothing else, but Apophis chuckles at it. 

“Then perhaps we should continue?” they suggest and Oscar lets out a breathless yes. “Very well,” Apophis says airily and releases his hair. Oscar leans forward again, hoping not to come off as too eager - knowing that he’s failing spectacularly. He finds his rhythm quicker now, settling back into it with ease.

“Pleasure yourself,” Apophis commands him gently and Oscar groans around their large cock. It is one thing to give pleasure to one of the Meritocrats, it’s quite another to be allowed to wring pleasure out for himself as well. 

With Apophis’ cock in his mouth and his own in his hand, his mind quiets down until the only thought clear and sharp in it is the last one he had to solve their current problem. He traces the thought as diligently as his tongue does Apophis' cock, refines it until he has not only something workable but concrete and detailed.

Once that thought is tied up neatly and out of the way, he becomes all too aware of his own body’s needs again. His fingers dig into Apophis’ hip in a silent plea, and Apophis in turn cards their own fingers through Oscar’s curls again.

“Go on then,” they allow, and Oscar comes nearly immediately, gasping around Apophis’s cock, going boneless with his own release. Apophis’ hand in his hair tightens again and Oscar pliantly lets them use his mouth however they wish.

Apophis comes quietly and his release on Oscar’s tongue is nearly as hot as freshly made coffee and tastes like molten rock. Oscar swallows it dutifully anyway. 

After Apophis pulls out, Oscar helps them tie up their robe with shaking hands, before he tidies himself up. Their fingertips ghost over his cheek again. 

“Thank you,” they say, sincerely, and step away, their eyes never leaving Oscar. “Now tell me, what did you come up with?” 

Oscar does.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd say I'm sorry, but... there is canonically a dragon out there dtf, what am I gonna do, not use that with the guy who on his first appearance seduced a party member?


End file.
